Sparrow had been as clear an illustration as anyone might require of the dangers of believing oneself immune to public opinion. He’d been riding high, and would continue to do so for some while, and if the immediate impression he left on others was one of Rumpelstiltskin-meets-the-Penguin, his self-image, if his interminable blogging was any clue, placed him somewhere between Montaigne and Nostradamus.